


things are different now

by nerdyscully (dalecooperscoffee)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Young Royai, boom sadness, fluff and then angst, like seriously, this is really happy at first and then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:13:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalecooperscoffee/pseuds/nerdyscully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenage Roy and Riza find out how much can change in just a short year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things are different now

**Author's Note:**

> despite the fact that i've written a few stories by now, i still can't tag things. or write summaries. or write. idk
> 
> i hope the tone of this story isn't as inconsistent as i feel it is...i wrote this all in one sitting tbh. i really love young royai and i wanted to write some fluff for them and then oops sad things happened. i might write a follow up piece to this...let me know your thoughts. thank you for reading!

He’s been practicing his driving, but he can’t quite go out on his own yet. So, when Roy needs something from town or is sent by Berthold to grab some groceries from the market, he takes his beat up bike. It’s not the shiniest or most well-kept thing by any means. But it works, and he likes it, and that’s all that matters to the young man.

One April day, on one of his market runs, he sees a vendor selling flowers. It’s one of those days where the sky is an endless light blue aside from a few white wisps, and there’s new colors popping up everywhere. He’s drawn to the flowers, especially the bouquet of tiny blue clusters on long, sturdy stalks. They smell sweet, and they look like they would stain your fingers if you squeezed them. The florist asks if he’d like to buy them, and after looking at the fairly low price, he nods. They remind him of someone--and he’s going to give them to exactly who it is. 

When he returns home, it’s almost late afternoon, and the young Riza Hawkeye is sitting at the table, pouring over some assignment for school. She looks up at Roy and offers a shy smile. “Hello, Mr. Mustang.”

He sort of wishes she wouldn’t call him that. He knows it’s formal and all, but they’re so close in age and he doesn’t want to be a ‘mister’ to her. “Hi, Miss Hawkeye. It’s nice outside, huh?” He puts the groceries away in their respective places. 

“Mm-hmm. I would study outside, but the sun gives me freckles.” she admits.

“Nothing wrong with that. Oh, by the way,” he hands her the bouquet without another word. She’s shocked, but her surprised expression soon turns into a warm smile as she inhales the sweet aroma of the blue clusters. “Just some flowers from your friendly neighborhood florist.” he says with a half-smile.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says softly.

“But I wanted to. I saw them and they reminded me of you.”

She stays silent for a few moments, inspecting the flowers, the soft smile never leaving her face. He doesn’t think he’s ever found her so beautiful. “Thank you. This is really kind of you. I’ll put them in my room.”

“Anytime, Miss Hawkeye.”

* * *

They talk more after that. They linger after dinner, not wanting to leave the table or each other. Sometimes they study together, and he plays some of his favorite records for her, records that he buys with the small amount of money he has. She plays some of hers, too, and lends him books she likes. Often, he’ll stay up late to read them, sliding them under her bedroom door when he’s finished, with a little note attached telling her how amazing it was. They seem to learn new things about each other every day.

“You’ve been spending time with Roy?” her father asks her when the boy in question is away on an errand. 

“Yes.” she tries not to wince; casually conversing with her father was never something Riza was good at. “He’s very nice.”

“He is pretty polite. I’m glad you two get along. He’s a decent student.”

“He seems to do better than decent.” she flips through her mathematics book, finding the assignment for the day dreary and boring. 

“He’s a bit of a dreamer,” her father muses. “I think he sees the world as better than it actually is. But that’s a teenager for you.”

“It’s not bad to be a dreamer,” she says quietly, more to herself than anyone.

“Alchemy isn’t about dreaming.” Her father tries to affectionately ruffle her hair, but she scoots away. It would just feel awkward if he did. He settles for patting her shoulder, and walks off, no doubt to work on some experiment. The house is so quiet--she wonders how she survived just a year ago, when it was just her and her father. When there was no one to really talk to. 

 

* * *

“You wanna go on a ride?” Roy asks, combing through his hair with his fingers. Summer is dawning, and Riza is almost done with school for the year. Roy doesn’t get breaks. Hell, he’ll be gone this time next year.

“Uh…” he’s never asked her to accompany him anywhere; Riza’s taken aback. “Well, sure, why not? Where to?”

“I dunno. We’ll just ride, I guess. Maybe to the market?”

“Sounds good to me.” she smiles, slipping on her shoes. She retrieves her bike from the backyard. It’s been neglected for far too long; she has to adjust the seat to accommodate her longer legs. They set off on their ride, the hot sun beating down on their backs. Riza wishes she had brought her sunhat, though it sort of makes her look like an old woman, with its big gaudy rim and bow wrapped around it. They ride mostly in silence, only speaking when they see something of interest like a bird or an interesting plant. It’s comfortable silence, though. 

When they reach the market, it’s bustling with Saturday shoppers. They set their bicycles by a tree and sit down in the shade, Roy spreading out beneath the long, twisting branches. “What’s on your mind?” she asks.

“Hmm, not too much actually,” he says. His mind is usually reeling. “Just that it’s really nice out, and I’m happy to be here with you.”

She hopes the increasing heat she feels on her face is just the sun and not a blush. “I feel the same, Roy.” They decided to call each other by their first names a few months ago, finding the ‘miss’ and ‘mister’s awkward now that they were closer friends. Though it took a bit of getting used to and slip-ups on both of their parts, it feels more natural now. She loves the way he says her name, especially when he’s laughing; he finds her funny, which was odd to her at first. She never considered herself to be much of a humourous person. But Roy thinks so. 

What she doesn’t know is that Roy thinks she practically hangs the moon.

“I’d kill for some of that candy,” he says, glancing at a booth that’s selling all sorts of sweets.

“You’re so skinny, you could probably use some.” With how much he eats, she’s kind of mad that he’s still as thin and tall as a twig.

“I’ll get us some, okay? My treat.”

She doesn’t even think to protest. “Okay.” she smiles, and he pushes himself off the soft grass, making his way to the booth. She observes her surroundings for awhile, a baby and mother catching her eye. The mother looks so blissful to have the baby in her arms. She wonders if her mother felt the same holding her.

Before she can get too deep in thought, Roy comes back with a bag of assorted sweets. He looks in the direction of the family, noticing her expression. “Cute kid,” he muses, opening the bag and biting into a piece of caramel.

She goes for a chocolate covered strawberry. “Very cute. Mom looks happy.”

“Do you wanna be a mom someday?” he asks.

“I guess I haven’t really thought of it…” and it’s true, she hasn’t. The absence of a mother in her life has sort of made the thought of being a mother herself into some sort of fantasy, something fun to daydream about every once in awhile but not something she can really see happening. “I guess. I don’t know what I want to be. What about you, Mister Alchemist?” she dons a teasing smile. “Would you ever settle down?”

“Later in life, yeah.”

“I thought no woman would be able to tie you down,” she bites into the strawberry, juicy and sweet and a little salty. Some of the juice dribbles down her chin, and before she can get it, he does, his thumb brushing her skin. The contact makes her stiffen for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says softly. “You never know when you’ll fall in love.”

She swallows, trying to push the flush creeping up her neck down, too. “My father is right, you are a dreamer.”

“Did he say that?” Roy chuckles. “I guess. I dunno.”

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it.”

“You’re too kind, Riza,” he lays down again, popping another caramel in his mouth. “Back when I was a little kid, just about every girl had a crush on me. I knew how to charm the ladies.” he says, his mouth full of the sticky sweet.

“Chew with your mouth closed!” she exclaims in mock-disgust. “I bet you were just as cute as a button, weren’t you?”

“Of course. I had about six girlfriends.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Wow, six girlfriends.”

“Excuse me, Miss Hawkeye, I prided myself on having those six girlfriends. Of course, I got dumped by all of them when they realized that I had six  _ at the same time. _ ” She’s in a fit of laughing now, curling up and clutching her stomach.

“Wow. Roy the playboy. I guess you expect me to be impressed?”

“Well, I’ve stepped away from my playboy ways. Now I vow to be dedicated to only one woman.” he gives her a certain looks that makes her stomach flutter. “What about you, were you a heart-breaker, too?”

“No, but I got a few boys to kiss me when I was eight.”

“I only got one kiss, so you beat me on that.”

“Good. You can’t be the best at everything, you know.” she searches through the bag for another sweet, finding a piece of licorice and chewing it slowly. “So you don’t have any girl you’re interested in now?” It’s a tricky question--she knows the answer will probably disappoint her.

“I don’t really have time for girlfriends…” he sighs. “But that doesn’t mean no one’s caught my eye.”

“Oh? Who?”

He gives her that look again. “You’re a smart girl, Riza, I thought you would know.” The licorice scrapes her throat as she swallows it quickly. 

“I didn’t think you thought of me in that way.”

“How could I not?”

She doesn’t know how to answer that, but when he sits up and looks at her with a questioning, requesting look, she nods, knowing exactly what he’s asking. His lips on hers feel so natural; he tastes sweet--from the caramels, with a hint of saltiness. When they pull apart, he looks sort of bewildered. “Something wrong?”

“I’m just wondering how I went so long without doing that,” he laughs, and she laughs, and they kiss again, but they’re more giggling against each other’s mouth than kissing, and everything is warm and sweet and  _ this _ , this is what she wants. She wants this, with him, for the rest of her life. She wants  _ him, _ Roy Mustang, all of him, even the part of him that’s a stupid flirt, even the part of him that gets mad at himself when he can’t figure out something, even the part of him that’s bruised and cut from loss...she wants him forever. 

When they make their way home, he gets them something cold and fizzy to drink and they listen to records, her lying on the floor and him lounging on the couch. Every song, even ones she’s heard before have a new meaning.

* * *

Things are different now. They keep it quiet. “It” being whatever it is they have. Roy’s pretty sure that Berthold wouldn’t like him being romantically involved with his daughter. But that doesn’t stop him from sneaking into her bedroom at night and lying next to her, talking in just barely a whisper. They don’t do anything sexual--it doesn’t seem like the right time now, but he kisses her whenever he can. It feels too good to pass up on, so he takes every opportunity possible. Sometimes she asks, “don’t you have important work to do?” and his answer is usually “this is very important, Riza” and she’s too happy to roll her eyes. It is the best summer of both of their lives, and the best fall, and even the best winter.

When spring rolls around, he knows that his time in the Hawkeye household is running short, and he knows that he’s going to have to break the news to both of his housemates about his decision. He finally tells Riza one night, his arms wrapped around her waist and his head on her shoulder. “I’m going to join the military.”

“Really?” she asks. Her brow furrows, and he doesn’t know how to decipher it.

“Yes. I want to help my country.”

“That’s brave of you,” she says quietly. “Just...it worries me, is all. You’ll be so far away, and who knows what could happen…” the recent conflict with Ishval has led to rumors and talk of a war becoming a possibility, and that is the last thing she wants. 

“I know. It’s scary for me, too. But I feel like this is the right thing to do.”

“Have you told my father?” she asks tentatively. The current state of her father is so unstable that neither of them are sure Berthold would understand at all.

“Not yet. I wanted to tell you first. Don’t worry about me, Riza...I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

“Can I hold you to that?”

“Of course.”

“Okay, I will.” she kisses him, but it feels different. When they pull apart, they don’t feel giddy or happy at all, really. “Just be careful, Roy. I know you can handle yourself, just...be careful.”

“I will. For you, Riza.” 

 

* * *

They are standing at her father’s grave.

Just three days ago, they were cuddling in her small bed, and she was telling her to be careful. Deep down she knew he’d be okay--she could still see that glint in his eye. He was still a dreamer, he was still optimistic, he was still the Roy she had always known. Now, she doesn’t see it anymore. It’s understandable, she supposes, but it makes her want to cry. They stand at a respectable distance from each other, though she longs to touch him, to kiss him one last time. She won’t allow herself that, not now.

Even his voice sounds different, even calling him Roy leaves a coppery taste in her mouth. The words he said just a few days ago--promising to be careful for her--were so easy then, so natural. Now it’s so different and distant.

She’s not bitter towards him--she’s not bitter at all. She’s just sad. She tells him to be careful one last time, but it doesn’t hold the same meaning it did a few days ago. She watches him drive off--he can drive now, he sold his bike just after her father died--waving sadly. When she returns to the house, it’s cold, despite the summer sunset filtering in through the window. She strips off her black dress, staring at her back in the mirror before stepping into the shower. She doesn’t usually allow herself to look at it; the markings made by her father leave what feels like a large knot in her stomach. But now, she looks, and she cries, really cries, for the first time in days. She cries because she’s alone again. 

When she’s in the shower, the water from it mixing with her own tears, she thinks about the baby she saw in the park last year. They’re older now. Probably even happier. She thinks about that mother. Does she has a husband? Was the smile just a facade she put on for the public? She knows it’s not worth dwelling on, but she doesn’t want to think of her father or her mother or Roy or anyone that she knows. She doesn’t want to think of the that’s starting in Ishval or the tattoo on her back or anything for God’s sake.

She enlists in the military the next day. They take her picture, and compared to pictures from just a few months ago, she doesn’t even look like the same person, really.

She tries not to dwell on it. After all, things are different now.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks again for reading! xoxox


End file.
